


Trick

by Areiton



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, Alpha Peter Hale, Dark Fantasy, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Mutual Non-Con, POV Stiles Stilinski, Rape Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-11 16:20:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16478888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Areiton/pseuds/Areiton
Summary: The thing is--he knew better.He’d spent the past three years running with wolves, heknewthat there were dangerous things in the night.





	Trick

The thing is--he knew better. 

He’d spent the past three years running with wolves, he  _ knew _ that there were dangerous things in the night. 

He fucking  _ knew _ better, and he still decided to go out alone, cutting through an alley to avoid Halloween night crowds on his way to Peter’s. 

The hand pressing him into the brick wall added some pressure, and he gasps as the stone cuts into his flesh. He knows that kind of pressure, feels it in the pack every damn day. 

“Don’t--,” he begs, and a thick snarl fills the alley. 

“If you scream, I’ll gut you,” the creature says. “And then I’ll kill you father.” 

That makes his mouth snap shut, cutting off the whimper before it forms. 

“Good boy,” the creature breathes, almost familiar, and Stiles shudders, hot tears burning in his eyes. Rough hands skate over his sides, down over his hips and ass, and he whines, wiggling away. 

“Don’t, please,” he pleads and the creature growls. 

“You belong to the Hale pack,” the creature says and Stiles shudders. “You smell like one of them.” A deep inhale. “Like the  _ alpha. _ ”

Stiles remembers when he laughed, said that it was silly to be afraid, that no one would dare touch what the Alpha had claimed. 

Looks like he was wrong, he thinks now, his stomach churning. He wants to throw up. 

“But not a wolf. Does your alpha not want you in his pack, little human?” 

“Fuck you,” Stiles spits, furious suddenly. “You don’t know shit.” 

“There must be  _ something _ he likes you for,” the voice says, musingly. Hands curve over his ass and he hears it--the distinct snick of claws--before he shrieks as his jeans are torn away. “I want to find out  _ what.  _

The creature pokes at him and Stiles screams again, forgetting the warning, or maybe too panicked to care. It doesn’t  _ hurt _ , but only because he’d prepped himself before he left--it was close enough to a full moon to know he’d be getting fucked after the pack meeting. Peter liked when he was wet and loose, when he came to the meeting plugged and ready to be fucked. 

Peter. 

Oh gods, Peter will  _ kill _ for this. 

“Please, don’t, please,” Stiles chants, and then a thick hot cock is shoving into him and his face is pressed into the stone, cutting into his lip and cheek and he can only grit his teeth and bear it. 

It  _ hurts _ . The creature is rough, shoving into him hard and fast, and every thrust feels like an invasion, feels like it’s  _ taking _ something and he can’t even fight it. 

He’s held there by something stronger and more powerful and he  _ can’t  _ fight. 

“Stupid boy,” the creature huffs, right in his ear and it makes his skin crawl. “Crying for someone who won’t come.” 

He is, he realizes. He’s sobbing, and chanting Peter’s name. “Left you all alone and unprotected, didn’t he?” the creature says, “Why would he come for you. Is it because this ass--” he thrusts hard and catches Stiles prostate and Stiles sobs with it, “because it’s  _ almost _ worth protecting.” 

“Fuck you,” he spits and the creature laughs, and reaches down. 

Stiles sobs again, when he feels the creature’s hand on his cock, when he realizes he’s  _ hard _ . 

“Come,” the creature hisses, rolling his hips. “Little cockslut, wandering around smelling like sex, all loose and ready to be fucked, you  _ like  _ it.” 

“I  _ don’t,”  _ he gasps, and the creature--

It  _ bites _ him, and Stiles screams, spasming between the immovable wall of  _ creature _ behind him and the hard cutting stone at his front as he comes. 

“There,” the creature purrs. “There you are. My good boy.” 

Stiles sobs, ugly hitching things, as the creature takes his hips and shoves into him again, hard and thoughtless until he spills with a groan. 

He leans against Stiles’ back, panting, for a long moment, before he pulls out and steps away. Stiles can feel the come seeping out of him, down his thighs, and he crumples to the dirty ground, not daring to look up as the creature says. “I see, why he keeps you around.” 

“Fuck you,” Stiles mumbles through his tears. 

The creature laughs and says, “Better get home, little boy.” 

And then he’s gone.

And Stiles--Stiles sits there for a long time, crying in the dirty. 

Peter finds him there. Scoops him up and carries him to the car, and into his apartment. He washes him carefully, his hands soothing and gentle where the creature’s had been hard and rough. 

Stiles cries, off and on, clinging to him and shaking while Peter holds him and kisses him and murmurs, “You were so good, darling. My good boy. My good boy.” 

Later, when they’re wrapped together in bed, and Stiles comes under Peter’s hands and plays with his--the creature’s--shifted claws, when he’s no longer shaking and the pain has subsided, Peter asks, hesitant and careful, “Was it what you wanted?” 

He remembers the conversation they had, months ago, when he’d flushed and confessed his rape fantasy. He remembers the way Peter’s eyes had gone dark and hungry, the way he’d held him down in bed, held him helpless and open, and still safe. 

He nods, against his mate’s chest and kisses the scarred over bite mark--the one that matches the one on his own throat, where the creature had bitten down earlier this evening. 

“It was perfect, Alpha. Thank you.” 

Peter hums against his throat, and murmurs, “Anything for you, darling.” 

Stiles has always known that. But after tonight--he basks in that knowledge, and kisses Peter softly before he snuggles close and goes to sleep. 


End file.
